Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 August 1904 — JERRY’S LOVE BUSH [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

JERRY’S LOVE BUSH

By M. Louise Cummins

Old Jerry lifted his head and looked after “the mistress” with vague distress while she made her third restless round of the grounds. Then he dug savagely In the bed of scarlet geraniums, Irrespective of the plants’ good. “Why doesn’t the master come home?” he demanded querulously, with the anxiety of one who had lovingly followed “the master's” life up from the days of white cotton socks and sailer collars.

The trowel dropped from his hand as his eyes turned back to the tall figure In Its trailing white draperies. Her dark eyes had been too filled with woe to notice the old gardener. Her arms were crossed upon her bosom as though she would thus hold down

the tumult that beat there. Here was the very center and core of the master’s life, old Jerry knew it, and yet— His face changed suddenly as though an evil cloud had passed before the

fan’s "brightness. "His very body seemed to become gnarled and twisted, while the hands closed and unclosed fgggestively at his sides, driving the nails into the hard palms. Every breath he drew was an unspoken malediction upon the man who came through the gates to meet his mistress. “You’re there, are ye, ye black hearted sarpant!” he panted. His heart seemed to die within him as he measured his strength against his opponent’s. With a sense of helpless Inadequacy his old figure collapsed tremblingly. But the habit of years In extremity was strong upon him. Hia head fell forward reverently on his breast. “God Almighty,” he breathed, “this makes the third time this week, an* I dunno—l dunno where’s Mr. Aleck!” The man he hated was walking barebeaded beside the mistress. Their steps turned to a tall shrubbery at the other end of the grounds. Jerry made a hobbling detour by the back of the house and reached It first. He was on bis knees again, trowel In hand, but hidden by the dense growth when they passed. “Why do you submit to this neglect?” the even, insidious tone was urging. “Believe me, I have not told you one-half of what has come unbidden to my knowledge. Constance, the way of escape is always open!” Old Jerry’s breath came in hard, dry puffs as he listened. His fingers dug themselves into the ground, tearing up handfuls of sod. It had come to this then! “Blast him! Blast his lying tongue!” The force of the words rent him from head to foot as he shook hie trembling fist after the man he would gladly have strangled. Then he got slowly on his feet, seeming to grow younger and stronger as he did so. The blood of the fighting race still beat in his veins in spite of his seventy years. It blazed In the blue eyes under their shaggy brows, promising war to the death before those he loved and served were injured. All that day he watched the house and grounds untiringly. Ilis mistress had bidden her visitor goodby at the gate and walked slowly back to the bouse as though all life and hope wer£ gone from her. and he saw her no more. At midnight he installed Johnny, Mr. Aleck’s favorite groom, in his place. “Don’t ye make no sound nor word,” he admonished, “an’ ye don’t need to know what yer here for, but if ye see anny wan goin’ or cornin’ call me. An’ Johnny, b’y, if ye could annyway get word to the master in the mornin’ to come home ’tis makin’ yer sowl you’d be.” When morning came he relieved Johnny at 6 o’clock, the latter having seen no one “cornin’ or goin’,” and again took lip liis surveillance of the house. ' It was dusk when at last the figure he had been looking for came slowly down the steps. She had almost reached the gate when Jerry, his old heart beating in his throat, stepped out on the gravel walk beside her. “I dunno if you noticed, ma'am,” he said casually, touching ids hat. “but I’m afraid ’tis dying the rosebush be the south wail is.” She bad halted, looking at him in uncertainty, bewilderment for a moment displacing the listless despair of her face. “’Twill be ten year ago come tomorrow- week since 1 planted it,” Jerry went on reminiscently, “I mind well ’twas the very day the master brought ye home, ma'am. I can see yez now, Btandin’ hand in hand lookin’ at me”— Her fingers had gone swiftly to her throat as if the lace there strangled her. Jerry watched her for a moment “An’ sure there never was such a tree for blossomin’,” be went on slowly. “I used to think that the love in the eyes of yez both that day blessed It ‘Sure ’tis a love bush,’ I sez to meself. An’ ’tlsn’t in yer two arms ye could carry the roses on it when it begun to bloom, an’ they the sweetest, that ever grew. But lately—somehow —I dunno”— His voice had trailed off into the Inexpressibly sad monotone of his race. The slender figure before him quivered, her hands twisting themselves convulsively in the folds of her cloak. “Last year,” he quavered on, “there was but three small buds on it; this year there’s but wan. I misdoubt if it’s alive at all—the love bush ’ll be—another year.” She moved stumblingiy aw-ay from him across the grass to the south wall. Jerry scarcely breathed as he followed and stood behind her. Oh, the wealth of blossom the love bush had once borne! She remembered bow the old gardener delighted to bring the fragrant armfuls to her on the anniversary of its planting—the day that Aleck had brought her home. Now— She looked at the blighted, twisted leaves, clinging as if for shelter to the wall, and a sob, which was the upheaval of all the torture and despair in her heart, tore her delicate throat. Her face as she turned it to Jerry was an .^gony, “Save it!” she pleaded, “Oh, Jerry, if it is not qnite dead, save it!” “Yes, ma’am.” But Jerry’s voice was husky and he drew his coat sleeve across his eyes. “ ’Tis safe enough she is now, glory be to God!” he added in a whisper. He stood in the shadow of the wall until she had Btolen back to the house, j carrying the one poor blossom of the love bush with her. Then he made his | way to where beyond the grounds lay a strip of moonlit road. I At sight of the figure which paced impatiently back and forth there Jerry’s body was contorted again, but this time with savage triumph. . *: “Aye,* he hissed slowly, “ye may walk, an’ ye may walk ag’in, an’ ye may keep on walkin’ till the feet drop off ye an’ the Divii gits his own—but ye’ll never git what yer waitin’ for—- , an’ the Lord be praised for itl"

It was the one regret of Jerry’s life that he was in bed and asleep that night when the master got home. Evidently Johnny, wi J th the aid of a sudden and suspicious ailment of the bay mare, had “made his soul” to some purpose that morning. The master had arrived at 10 o'clock, according to Mrs. Riley, the cook, and, to the best of her belief, he and the mistress bad talked all night Jerry was assiduously doing his best for the love bush the next morning when they came out of the house, Mr. Aleck’s strong shoulder behind the mistress, she leaning back against him, her face white and shining with love. The old gardener rose quickly and came to meet them. “If you’ll believe me, ma’am,” he began eagerly, “ ’tis a new shoot I just this minit found on the rose bush be the south wall, an’, as true as I live, if ’tisn’t covered with strong, healthy buds!”

HER FINGERS HAD GONE SWIFTLY TO HER THROAT.